To My Kind Editor
by LunaTheSmallAndFancy
Summary: There is one person whose story hasn't been told, but is responsible for the stories of all others. This is about her. And she has received some letters.


"To My Kind Editor"

I thanked and paid the taxi driver, pulling the alarmingly lime green backpack from the taxi. I worried that the bright nature of the backpack would allow me to be seen through the darkness as I slid through the alley, climbing this way and that atop the trash cans and dumpsters to the fire escape. From there, I climbed up the three flights of fire escape stairs and stepped onto the ledge of the top floor window. I pulled myself onto the roof, glad for the rough surface of the shingles to help me keep my balance. I tugged at the few loose shingles on the roof until they opened, like a door with no knob. I dropped the backpack in first before lowering myself in and pulling the door shut behind me.

I sighed, gently tugging the shoulder-length blonde wig from my head and returning it to its wig head. I quickly changed from the outlandish disguise of the nonexistent person I was pretending to be to the reasonable disguise of myself. I took my hair down from its complicated bun, put it in a ponytail instead, and started a pot of coffee. Finally, I unzipped the backpack, gingerly removed the grimy lockbox, punched in the passcode, and pulled out the odd-smelling typewritten pages within.

"To my kind editor," the first line on the top page read.

I am she. I am her. I am the kind editor.

Well, I suppose I wouldn't call myself any more kind than any other editor. I've done some things no kind person would. I would never refer to myself as a "kind editor." Lemony refers to me as such.

I skim the letter, deciding to leave the draft until tomorrow morning. I lay the pages back in the box with the other items Lemony had included ("to assist Mr. Helquist with his illustrations," he'd said). I instead turned my attention to the lumpy mattress against the far wall, checking the area below the small, triangular gap between the wall and the roof shingles. If one was resourceful enough to own a carrier pigeon, and had envelopes the correct size, and was lucky enough no to be rained upon, one could just fit a letter through the gap. My friends, luckily, happen to be very wise, and own many sizes of envelopes, and have reliable access to the radio's weather station.

Directions to the next meeting, instructions on what to bring, et cetera, et cetera. I wished they would stop using the insignia on the envelopes. Someone is going to notice.

A brief note from Dashiell regarding the book I requested he send me and the object hidden within it. I feel he may be the best volunteer of all of us—so much help, so few words.

A message written on a Café Salmonella from Mr. Helquist regarding the new address to which to send him items from Lemony. I imagine it will change again before he finishes the illustrations, for he is on the run nearly as much as Lemony is.

And… A letter from… Of all people… I put the other messages aside and sit in my desk chair. It creaks as I sit in it. I open the envelope with my letter opener shaped like a dastardly-looking question mark. As I pull out the letter, a photograph falls into my lap.

 _S,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well, almost as much as I hope this carrier pigeon finds you. (I'm afraid it's not my carrier pigeon; it's R.'s)_

 _How is L.? I haven't heard from him… Though, no one has. He's all but stopped responding to anyone since K died. I imagine you're the only one of us he talks to much anymore._

 _More importantly, how are you? It feels like it's been ages since I last saw you. Soon, maybe after you finish editing L.'s next book, you could come for a visit. You'd get to see D., I., and Q., who send their regards and are well, though they miss V., K., and S. You could see Beatrice, too, and how big she's gotten. She misses you. At least, I think so; she keeps saying "Giblee chonderoy!" which I can only take to mean "I very much like S. and want her to visit soon." Maybe you could take some pictures of her for L.? I'm sure he'd love to see her._

 _Speaking of photographs, I found this one while digging through a shoebox of old pictures. It's from long ago, from before the schism. It's of L. and J. at M.'s birthday party. I'm sure you remember it; you were there. I have a similar picture framed on my mantle, so I'm sending this one to you. Do give it to L. next time you see him. I think he'd like to have it._

 _I'll see you at the next meeting. I miss you._

 _XO,_

 _H._

I smiled and folded the letter neatly, slipping into the top drawer of the small chest that sits at the end of my bed where I keep letters from Hector. I picked up the picture of Lemony and Jacques from my desk, looked at the smiling young men in the picture. Though all my training (and Lemony) taught me to be scared later, I am in that moment very scared for Lemony, scared out enemies will find him, scared that I, his kind editor, will be left here, in this cramped secret room, unable to help. I am scared for Hector, too, and his hot air balloon mobile home, and the precious cargo it carries in the form of three young volunteers and a child just within the realm of infancy. I pinned the photograph to the wall alongside maps of possible sugar bowl locations, drawings by Mr. Helquist, and articles about Lemony. I look again at the picture, a small rectangle of happiness among so much fear, and I think.

I think about Hector in his new hot air balloon home and the rest of the people it carries.

I think about Lemony, doing everything he can to uncover the truth and clear the names of the innocent.

I think about myself, sitting alone in a small room with a typewriter and a grimy lockbox.

I think about how unburned, and yet how flammable, the people in the picture look.

I think about how many things end in fire.

I rise and pour myself a cup of coffee. I have a draft to edit and a bag to pack, after all. But first, I must write a letter.

 **A/N: Thank you very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and if you did, please leave a review or a favorite if you have a second. Best wishes! ~Luna**


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